For you “love the sinner, hate the sin” kind of Christians, let me remind you what love looks like. Love looks like welcome. It looks like hands-on care. It looks like kindness without expectation of return. You cannot love people and at the same time keep them at arms’ length. Love requires vulnerability and openness. Love gets messy and isn’t always comfortable. Love can only manifest in relationship. Love does not and will never look like exclusion.
*****WARNING**** For those of you who are sensitive, there is some language in this you may not appreciate. I found I could not say what I wanted to say with milder words. I tried using asterisks and hashtags, but they just didn’t do. If it bothers you, then move on. But, for those who are not sensitive – read on.
WARNING: This is an uncensored rant against God. If you find such things as doubt, anger, and questioning toward God offensive, read no further. If not, then read on.
Now that we are into February of the new year, I’m at a place removed so I can adequately reflect on the year that was 2012. It has taken the better part of a month to process, and even still, I’m not sure how to digest it all. But here’s a first crack at getting my thoughts, questions, and overwhelming confusion out of my head and into this blog.
Every year at Thanksgiving, my mother would place a kernel of dried Indian corn on our plates, and one-by-one she would ask each of us to hold the corn between our fingers and answer this question for the entire table to hear: What are you thankful for this year? It was a corny tradition (pun intended) but we participated anyway, repeating the same answers year after year: beautiful children, loving partners, adoring parents, warm homes, delicious food. Who wouldn’t be thankful for these things?
Recently, there has been a lot of political admonishment to vote for “biblical values.” Pulpits, radio ads, and television commercials are flush with it. We see it plastered on flyers, littering our mail. And most recently, the Billy Graham Evangelical Association placed a full-page advertisement in local newspapers reminding us all to “cast our ballots for candidates who base their decisions on biblical principles.”
During my year of major life changes (divorce, left job, started seminary, moved twice, sold old house, purchased new house, lost friends, made new friends), I began dating again. My ex-husband and I were together for eight years, five of them married. So I was a bit rusty. I dated a lot in college, but that was college with college boys and a college schedule. This was big-girl dating, and I wasn’t sure how the process worked in the big-girl world.
Arachnidiot (ar ak ni’ di ot) – n. A person, who, having wandered into an “invisible” spider web, begins gyrating and flailing about wildly.
The signs were there, yet I did not heed them. In 1990, I had another life. I was married to a different man, had a regular job at a regular company with regular benefits, and I lived in a suburb with cookie-cutter houses, where most of the residents had the same education, income, and race. I actually went to Tupperware parties. Two Tupperware parties. {—-shiver—-}
Let me say this: My parents love me a lot. Anything you read hereafter, please keep that in mind. The circumstances to which they exposed me were out of a genuine intention to free me from my fear. That it did not work and that I am scarred is in no way a reflection of their greatest desire for my life to be lived in happiness and purpose. It is not their fault their daughter was born arachnophobic.